Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“You shouldn’t have to pay for my deposit,” Dylan says. “I’m really hoping to get a pay rise soon. I don’t want to ask yet because they just made a round of layoffs. When the dust settles.”
“It’s fine,” I say. Because it is. Because we’re all healthy and happy and we have each other. “Tell me about the flat.” Dylan graduated over three years ago now, just as Eddie started university. He’s been working in tech ever since. Eddie wants to do the same thing although she wants to work for herself. Both of them following in the footsteps of our mother—not that we ever heard her talk about work. We’ve all read about who our parents were, what they did, the companies they founded, the empire they built.
“I can get really good broadband,” he says. I can’t help but laugh, heartily, just like I used to when he learned to play peekaboo. I was so proud of him then, just as I am now. “It’s important. I’ve got a couple of ideas I’m playing with for apps. If one of them comes off, I might be able to quit my job completely. I can’t tell you too much, but I need bandwidth.”
I know the feeling of needing more time. Space to breathe. Maybe now I have a job and I’m not sleeping on someone else’s sofa, I’ve started to feel I have a bit more time to myself. “Okay, well I’ll transfer the money tonight. Send me your new address.”
“Speaking of new addresses, did you start your new job yet?”
“I did. I’m enjoying it.”
“I don’t get how you want to live in someone else’s house. Don’t you want a place of your own?”
Yes. The answer is yes, I would prefer to live in my own flat, rather than have my nose pressed against the window of someone else’s life. But as a live-in nanny, I can maximize my earnings. A little brother who still needs help with his rent deposit plus a little sister who has university fees landing every term, not to mention the rent and food and books and all the rest of her living expenses—it all adds up. Their needs come before my preference for my own place.
“It’s much easier this way,” I say. “No commute to work. I don’t have to worry if the boiler breaks down or my flat mate moves out. No responsibilities beyond buying my own shampoo.”
“No one believes you have no responsibilities. For a start, you’re a nanny, and you’ve practically raised me and Eddie since…” He trails off. I don’t like the way this conversation is turning.
“I’m in the bath and the water’s getting cold. I’ll call you later in the week.”
“I love you,” he says, his voice a bit louder than before.
“I love you too. Never forget it.”
We hang up and despite my bathwater being just the right temperature, I get out of the bath and wrap myself in my favorite towel. It’s worn and fraying at one edge, but my first nanny used to wrap me in this towel as a child, and I can almost feel her arms around me when I use it.
I have a shower in the bathroom attached to my bedroom, but I’ve used the bath across the hall for a soak. I press my ear against the bathroom door, to make sure I’m not going to open the door and walk straight into Dax. It sounds like the coast is clear, so I twist the doorknob, poke my head out to check and then scurry across to my bedroom. I close my door and exhale.
Phew. I avoided my boss while I was half-naked. I feel like I deserve a cup of warm milk for that.
Dax’s mother was right. This flat is the smallest place I’ve ever lived. Usually, I’d be on a different floor to the family I’m working for. In my first job, I was in the basement flat and had my own kitchen. In my third job, the family had an entertaining kitchen and then a separate kitchen that actually got used by the chef and the housekeeper and me. There was never any danger I’d cross paths with my employer getting hot milk. Here, it’s different. We’re on top of each other. I can’t exactly hear him breathe in the next room, but it’s close.
I literally let my hair down and get changed into my pajamas—white with embroidered dots all over—then pop my head out of the door to see if the coast is clear. It must be an adjustment for Dax too, going from living on his own to having two women in his space.
The kitchen looks dark, so I dart out of my bedroom and along the corridor to fix my hot milk and leave a little gift for Dax. His mother was right about that, too—he needs to bond with his daughter. I don’t mind helping that along in any way I can.